In The Ruins Of The City
by Cliff333
Summary: Short story, with a PDF squad trying to survive their battle with cultists. Help arrives from a strange corner...


Introduction In the Ruins of the City

_Midday, the First Day_

_Martyr's Square_

"Move! Move! Move!"

Guardsman Matthias Jordan of the Aupran Planetary Defence Force sprinted towards the wall of the fountain while rounds tore through the air. He covered the lash two metres with a forward dive, crashing into the relative safety of the ornamental feature.

"Sergeant! More hostiles!"

A thunderous curse came from Sergeant Williams as he risked a glance above the wall. A fresh horde of cultists was indeed coming around the corner of the old Town Hall, their red cloaks bright against the drab rockrete grey of the city. Artillery rounds from entrenched guns on the outskirts screamed overhead, but Section Four had no authority to direct that fire onto the enemies surrounding them. Matthias and the rest of his section all turned to Sergeant Williams, waiting for his orders.

"Frak!" exclaimed the sergeant. "OK. Richard, Jordan - throw your grenades. The rest of us will provide covering fire."

"Yes sir!" roared the squad. Five lasguns added their roar to the battle, and Matthias fished his last frag grenade from its pouch. Mentally getting his bearings before he got up to throw, he turned to face the Town Hall.

_Aim... pull the pin..._

Rising up from his crouch, he saw the cultists rushing around the bombed-out ruin. He quickly adjusted his aim, let fly, and threw himself down.

He was dimly aware of a voice yelling "MISSILE!" and then his world erupted in flame and noise. Searing heat flared around him, and he felt himself flying through the air, landing hard on the road. Pain exploded through his mind, and his last thought before drifting into unconsciousness was relief.

_At least the pain's a good sign,_ he thought_, it means I'm alive._

_It means I'm alive..._

"Matthias!"

The voice sounded so very far away.

"Matthias?"

A girl's voice. Soft. Concerned.

"Wake up! They're coming!"

It sounded urgent. Matthias tried to open his eyes, to move, but his head swam and his thoughts seemed disjointed. Foggy.

"Guardsman Jordan!"

Another voice. Male. Less concerned and not remotely soft.

"Guardsman Jordan! ON YOUR FEET!"

_Sergeant_.

Matthias' eyes snapped open.

Guardswoman Lacey was crouched over him, a worried look on her face. His lasgun lay beside him, and Sergeant Williams stood nearby. Guardsman Richard was crouched behind an ad hoc barricade, talking frantically into his vox. A nagging question forced its way into his consciousness.

_Why aren't there more?_

"The others?" he gasped.

Lacey shook her head.

"Sergeant?" It was Richard, shaking his head. "Sergeant, I can't raise Lieutenant Oswyn on the vox."

"Dead, most likely" replied Williams. "Can you raise Command?"

"I can't raise anyone." Richard looked as if he might cry, the enormity of his situation dawning on him for apparently the first time. "We're on our own."

As if to underline the severity of the situation, a roar erupted from the mobs in the street. Richard became paler still. Lacey looked terrified. His own bravery, Matthias realised, was probably due to him still being too dazed to appreciate just how much trouble he was in. Only the sergeant looked calm.

"Lacey, get Jordan up." he snapped. "We'll show these filthy traitors how we can fight!"

Breathe. Squeeze. Kill. Repeat.

Breathe. Squeeze. Kill. Repeat.

Matthias repeated the mantra in his mind, as his lasgun brought cultist after cultist crashing to the ground.

Sergeant Williams had chosen the position of their last stand well. In the ruins of an old government building, surrounded by hastily assembled barricades, probably built by the traitors themselves before the PDF were sent in to clear them out. Matthias, Lacey, Richard and the sergeant crouched behind cover and fired at the blood-crazed lunatics foolish enough to try to rush them. Those were relatively easy prey, their only danger the numbers. No, the real threat was the -

**CRACK**

Matthias swore as a lasgun shot missed him by scant inches, thudding into the masonry behind him. He turned towards the sound and saw the sniper, perched on the roof of the Town Hall.

_Oh Emperor of Mankind, send Your gaze to me with benolovence_

He lined the traitor up in his sights.

_Watch over Your servant and soldier_

Breathe. Squeeze.

_And protect me from peril_.

The sniper toppled off the roof as the shot hit home.

_It wasn't enough_.

Cursing his lack of faith even as the thought persisted, Matthias watched another figure drop, then switched to the next target.

_It still wasn't enough._

No matter how many he killed, numbers would eventually take their toll.

Richard was dead, a lucky shot having caught him in the head as he switched targets. Lacey had shot his killer, but now they were only three. Three against a city.

And then Matthias heard the rumbling of engines in the distance.

A Chimera, with what looked like a reverse 'C' crudely daubed on it, rounded the corner. The volume of engine noise told Matthias that there was at least two more heavy vehicles nearby, still out of sight. The pitiful remnants of Section Four had nothing that could even scratch the paint of these APCs. Matthias hoped the Emperor would understand. Leaning into the barricade as much as possible, he lined up the next shot.

_At least we'll sell our lives dearly..._

Wait.

What was that?

Matthias' hairs stood on end, and the air began to crackle. A vulgar smell, like burning promethium, assaulted his senses. In confusion, he glanced at his comrades, and immediately wished he hadn't.

For the first time since Matthias had known him, Sergeant Williams looked scared.

"Warpcraft..." he whispered.

Above the fountain where the rest of Section Four had perished, reality itself was ripped apart. The air convulsed and tore, darkness bleeding into the world as a gateway into what looked like hell itself forced its way into existence.

Guardsman and cultist alike stopped shooting, and involuntarily recoiled from the _wrongness_ of it. The maw stretched wider and wider, swallowing up the fountain as it clawed into the materium. And then, miraculously, out came figures Matthias had never dreamed he would see outside of pict-captures and tales of legend.

A nine foot tall figure in blue and gold armour descended from the tear in reality. White robes edged with maroon fluttered on the breeze as he emerged, flanked by two more mighty figures. All but the leader carried weapons of a calibre usually only seen mounted on vehicles. The leader carried a staff, the tip of which was wreathed in an emerald flame. Sigils and arcane designs decorated his armour and even in the waning light, the burnished gold gleamed brightly. He strode into the centre of the square with the arrogance of a man who has never yet met his equal. Behind him, the others spread out, one on either side, their weapons held ready. They too were adorned with sigils, and emerald light blazed from their lenses. Matthias gazed at these glorious figures, committing every detail to memory.

Space Marines. The elite soldiers of mankind. The Emperor's finest.

Matthias had never dreamed he would see one. No mention had been made of the Emperor's angels being on Aupra.

"For the many-armed Emperor!" a cultist screamed, and the spell of silence was broken. Ignoring the three pitiful figures huddled behind cover, the cultists all began firing at the newcomers. The Chimera and newly arrived Leman Russ added their guns to the onslaught.

The lead space marine simply waved his staff. A screen of fire erupted out of thin air in front of him, and the projectiles disappeared as they hit it. He raised his hand, then closed it abruptly, and the Chimera and Leman Russ were lifted into the air, surrounded by eldritch fire.

Matthias blinked.

The Chimera and Leman Russ were _lifted into the air_.

Even as he watched, dumbfounded, the marine gestured and the two multi-ton vehicles flew backwards, crashing to earth on top of Cultist firing positions, before exploding, ammunition flying everywhere as their onboard magazines cooked off. In eerie silence, the marines flanking their leader raised their guns in unison and began firing into the crowd.

It was over in moments.

The fire around the leader faded away and his men lowered their guns. Wisps of smoked curled from the barrels, but aside from that there was no movement at all. The two marines could have been statues. The square was littered with their handiwork; the smoking husks of the armoured vehicles, the broken bodies of cultists and the ruins of carefully prepared fighting positions.

"Excellent work, brothers" announced the figure with the staff, clapping the nearest marine on the shoulder. He turned towards the three soldiers, and Matthias shuddered involuntarily as he saw the faceplate. Emerald lenses, even more disconcerting that the others, blazed with the same eerie light that had come from the staff, and it seemed as if his very soul was being inspected. He fell to his knees. Beside him, Lacey and Sergeant Williams did the same. The blue and golden figures advanced towards them.

"Rise, friends" the marine said. His voice sounded soft, even kindly. Struggling to his feet, Matthias tried to speak, but found he could barely breathe with exhilaration. A space marine! He had been saved by a space marine!

"Lord, we are in your debt!" exclaimed Sergeant Williams. He had stood up at the marine's bidding, but kept his head bowed, not daring to meet his rescuer's gaze.

"Think nothing of it" came the reply. "I am glad I could aid you."

To Matthias' suprise, the marine sounded genuinely pleased.

"Can you find your way back to your own men from here?"

"We can, Lord" replied Williams.

"Excellent" the marine replied. "May the Great Ocean guide your steps."

With that, he turned to leave. Soundlessly, the others fell into step behind him. And at last, Matthias found his voice.

"Lord!" he cried after the marine. "May we know who it is that saved us?"

The marines stopped mid-stride. For what seemed like an eternity, there was silence. Then the leader looked at them for the final time, and again Matthias felt as if his very soul was being read.

"You may, Matthias Jordan." the marine said.

Matthias went cold.

_My name! How does he know my -_

"I am Abrax Montu."

The others began to leave, but Abrax had one final thing to say.

"Abrax Montu, of the Fifteenth Legion."

And with that, he was gone.


End file.
